


Dream Speak

by chimaeracabra



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Interracial Relationship, Interracial Sex, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Smut, Steve Rogers & OFC - Freeform, Steve Rogers and OFC, Steve Rogers and Original Female Character, Steve Rogers and Original Female Character of Color, Virgin Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 07:14:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3200264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chimaeracabra/pseuds/chimaeracabra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve enjoys his first Martin Luther King Jr. weekend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream Speak

**Author's Note:**

> Judge me not. Happy MLK Day.

            The Captain likes the way that Dr. King speaks, the prosody that gets the point across. It's what makes any speech worth hearing, as powerful as it can be, beyond the words. He glances at Sam, who grins, continuing to nod. A smile forms across the Captain's face. So much he has missed. The list he's been keeping is growing day by day, but here is one more thing that he can cross off.

            "The riches of freedom and the security of justice…" Applause. Natasha walks into the staff lounge, already babbling with Maria about what she wants to do for the weekend. He hones in on the voice emanating from Sam's iPhone.

            "Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time," and yet more applause. Natasha trails off into silence as Sam turns up the volume on his iPhone even further, "to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children…"

            "No one says Negro anymore. It's offensive," Maria adds quietly. To Steve's surprise, Sam leans back in his chair at the table, having put down his sandwich to laugh. Steve glances unsurely at him. He stops laughing to nod. Natasha and Maria join the pair at the table to listen. Steve had found himself putting all of his food down, his ears having perked up. As they listen, they nod from time to time. Dr. King's repeated reference to freedom continues to echo in the Captain's ears, and from the moment he started listening to the speech, he wishes he could have been around in such a time, supporting his country's struggle for freedom.

            "...I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: 'We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.'" More applause. Steve thinks about all the madness that he reads in the news about racial profiling, and realizes that if Dr. King were alive in the present day, he would be beyond devastated. The Captain remembers segregation—he lived in it. It had been a breath of fresh air to not see it when he woke up.  Regardless, he feels that freedom has yet to come as far as Martin prophesied.

            "Are you _really_ doing this to him, Sam?" chimes a beautiful voice. Steve is momentarily distracted from the speech when he looks over at the woman opening the refrigerator for her lunch. She appears to have just come in from running, those strange, tight athletic pants women seem to love to wear cutting off at her ankles, a black hoodie covering her upper body, until she turns around so that the Captain realizes she's only wearing a sports bra underneath, sweat still shining upon her caramel coloured midriff. He is unable to focus on the dreams and hopes of Martin Luther King Jr. as this woman walks towards the table, seemingly still catching her breath.

            Sam turns around in his seat to shush her loudly before pointing at Steve and mouthing the words, "He's never heard it before!" She laughs, and her laugh is like bells ringing in Steve's ears. He feels his cheeks flush hot for a moment as she plops down between him and Sam. She rolls her eyes.

            "My parents used to play this _all day long_ , _every_ MLK day when I was a kid. I know it by heart now," she says, peeling open her orange lunchbox. Steve has not been able to take his eyes off of her since she walked in.

            "Be quiet and appreciate black history," Sam states half jokingly before shaking his seltzer water and opening it again. The woman laughs once more, sending her brown-eyed gaze in Steve's direction. He finally looks away, reaching for his bottled water.

            "I'm a mulatto, Wilson. I think I very much appreciate black his—"

            " _Shhh_ ," Sam interjects. Natasha laughs out loud as he deliberately raises a finger to his lips.

            "I don't believe we've met, Captain…Rogers, right? You're the guy who napped for decades, aren't you?" she asks. Steve turns to look at her again, and finds the woman pouring dressing onto a dark green mess of vegetables in a container.

            "That's me," he says almost shyly. She looks up at him, flashes a bright smile.

            "They usually call me Steve," he grins, extending his hand for her to shake. She laughs in a friendly way, and he's surprised to find her grip strong. He can't help but wonder whether it has always been the case; her hand so dainty in his own. Maybe she's gripping so securely because she knows how strong he is. Regardless, Steve finds himself speechless as she speaks to him.

            "I'm Cherise, new agent—well—not _that_ new. I just…had to take a few weeks off, but I'm back in the game. It's great to finally meet you," she says.

            "Guys, you're _ruining_ it," Sam interrupts, going to turn the volume up even further on his phone. Maria laughs through her nose, shaking her head.

            "The pleasure is all mine," Steve adds, wanting to say more to Cherise, but finding himself at a loss for words. Her long, curly hair is pulled into a loose tail at the back of her head. It looks to have started coming loose during her run, some strands lightly plastered to her hairline with sweat.

            "Have you seen Star Wars yet?" She asks, turning her gaze to him again. He finds his heart jumping a moment. He hadn't expected her to keep talking to him after Sam turned the volume up as far as it would go. As a result of this, Cherise had merely lowered her voice. Steve then wonders whether she knew about his list. He hadn't shown it to her. He figures that Sam must have told her _a lot_ about him.

            "Yeah. I thought it was…okay, I guess," he says, grinning. The movie had been much different from any picture he's ever seen, flashier.

            "How about Star Trek?" she asks, before putting a forkful of food into her mouth. Steve pauses, pulling the list he keeps in a small notebook from his pocket. Maria laughs, and without looking at her, he knows that she's laughing at him. He ignores this.

            "Was that the TV show?" he asks.

            "Yeah. They also made a movie out of it. Have you seen the one with Cumberbatch?" she asks.

            "Cumber what?" Steve asks, tilting his head to the side unsurely. Maria laughs again. Sam sighs discontentedly, the speech nearing the end.

            "Sorry," Natasha says quietly.

            "I'll email you the video," he promises Steve.

            "Thanks," he says, pausing a moment to glance across the table at him. In truth, he had found the speech very powerful. He intends to give it another listen over the long weekend. He'll have the following Monday off, anyway, thanks to Dr. King.

            "Uh, no, I haven't seen it," he says, turning back to Cherise. She had been waiting with her warm eyes set on him. His heart jumps again as he smiles, and decides to finish his food.

            "Okay. Well, I won't spoil it for you," Cherise adds. She's pretty in a way that Steve has never seen before. Maria and Natasha go on about plans for the weekend, and go out of their way to try and invite Steve.

            "Nah. It's been a _long_ week. Think I'm just going to take it easy. I'm kind of on call, anyway, so chances are I'll be here on Monday," he admits. Natasha shrugs, eying the Captain and then Cherise. He stares down at his sandwich shyly. She had looked at him just as slyly, and he makes an effort to try and finish his sandwich before Natasha tries to set him up with Cherise. It isn't that he doesn't find her beautiful, and so far interesting, but he doesn't want to throw himself out on the dating scene just yet. Natasha has been trying very hard to get him to go out more. He knows that she means well, but at the same time, Steve doesn't enjoy for things to feel forced. He is relieved when his phone rings and Fury appears to be calling him.

            "Gotta run. But thanks again for that speech, Sam. I'll definitely listen to the whole thing if you email me."

            "Already done," Sam adds, and the Captain finds the notification flashing on the screen of his phone.

            "Oh, _come on_ , Steve. It'll be _fun_ ," Natasha adds as he starts out of the lounge. He glances back at the group.

            "Rain check?"

 

            On his way home, Steve recalls that there's no more milk for cereal at his place…or bread for toast. Steve takes a turn to make his way to the store. He's not up for cooking much, but knows his fridge needs a refill. When he makes it to Target, he fills a cart with produce and baked chicken, canned goods, suddenly wishing he had agreed with Natasha's plans for the weekend, if only to have something exciting to do. He passes the home goods aisle and pauses upon seeing someone out of the corner of his eye.

            Cherise sighs, fumbling with a sink sprayer hose. She's too absorbed to notice him at the end of the aisle. Steve wonders for a moment whether he should keep rolling his cart past, but he finds himself unable to ignore the frustration on her face as she shakes her head. Steve starts his cart down the aisle. Cherise sighs. She hasn't looked up until he speaks.

            "Cherise, right?"

She turns her head and gazes up at him before smiling.

            "Steve," she says, "I'm sorry—I mean Captain Rogers," she says, standing up to her full height. For a moment, he swears she's about to salute him. He can't help but smile.

            "You can just call me Steve," he says kindly. Cherise laughs somewhat shyly before throwing the spray hose back on the shelf.

            "Doing some grocery shopping?" she asks, crossing her arms.

            "Well, I _do_ have to eat sometimes."

She laughs. He likes the way it sounds and hopes she'll do it again.

            "Anyway, I saw you on my way to the register and was wondering whether you needed some help."

Cherise grins, picking up another spray hose and showing it to Steve.

            "Uh, if you can fix a sink hose, then you might be useful to me," she says, "I dunno, I'm not that handy, but I didn't think it would be that hard to find something that'll work," she says.

            "What kind of sink do you have?" he asks, looking at the hose.

            "…" Cherise laughs, "I'm sorry. I don't…even know that," she admits.

            "Well, I could take a look at it if you want. I've fixed a couple of things around the house before. I'd be happy to help—at no cost to you, of course."

            "Are you sure? Don't you have somewhere to be?" she asks, eying his cart of groceries.

            "Not right now," he admits, shrugging.

            "I'll totally pay you," she reassures.

            "No, really. It's no big deal," he promises.

 

            When he pulls up into Cherise's driveway, he decides to leave his groceries in the car. It's cold enough that nothing will spoil by the time he makes it home.

            "Are you sure you don't want to put your things in my fridge? I've got a spare in the basement."

            "They'll be fine. How long could this take?" he grins. Cherise is actually wearing a coat atop her hoodie, but she still shivers on her way up the stairs.

            "Oh my god, thank you _so_ much. You have _no_ idea how much I appreciate this, Steve…" she opens the door and he follows her inside.

            "If you don't mind taking your shoes off, so the salt doesn't get everywhere," she says. She shows him into the atrium.

            "I keep sandals for in the house. I have some for guests, but, I don't know whether any of these will fit you," she says somewhat nervously. Steve eyes the green and pink flip flops.

            "Is it okay if I just leave my socks on?" he asks. Cherise laughs, nodding as she backs out into the hall to take her coat off. She hangs it up before offering to take Steve's.

            "Thanks." She places it beside hers and shows him to the kitchen.

            "So, I think that the hose is broken—I mean _obviously_ —otherwise I wouldn't have bought a new one."

She places the package on the counter.

            "And it messes with the faucet."

Steve pulls the cabinet under the sink open and gets down on the floor.

            "You wouldn't happen to have a toolbox, would you?" he asks, gazing up at her. She takes her hair down, and he finds himself staring as the curls whip around her face, the cheekbones strong and high.

            "Yeah. Let me grab it," she says, shuffling off to a door in the corner. She opens it, flicking on a light switch, and disappears down a flight of steps. The Captain stands to observe his surroundings. Cherise appears to live alone, something he realizes is incorrect when a Russian Blue comes strolling into the room, pausing to eye the intruder before jumping up onto the counter. The feline stretches and rests on the counter to stare at him. Steve turns the sink on to find that it seems to be running poorly. He turns it back off. Cherise rushes up the stairs with a toolbox and places it at Steve's feet.

            "Thanks. I'll get to it now," he grins, kneeling again and opening the box to search for a wrench.

            "Again, you have _no idea_ how much I appreciate this, Steve."

            "Not a problem," he reassures. Cherise sighs before opening the refrigerator, pouring herself a glass of orange juice, and starting on it.

            "Oh—would you like something to drink?" she asks.

            "Sure, when I get done down here," he says, having migrated to his back on the floor to inspect the pipes.

            "Okay. I've got filtered water, juice, champagne. Let me know. I'm gonna go grab a shower," she says, "But I'll be upstairs."

            "Take your time." Steve happens upon what must be the problem with the sink.

            "Oh, and I hope you don't mind if Simon watches. He kinda likes to bother my guests," Cherise explains. Her voice is much closer to Steve, and he looks down out of the cabinet to see that she's squatting beside him, pointing to her cat on the counter.

            "He can keep me company, if he wants," he says, grinning. Cherise laughs again, before disappearing up the stairs. She comes back a moment later with her laptop and places it on the counter, not far from where the Captain is working.

            "And I totally feel bad about interrupting you and Sam earlier. I'll play this for you while you work," she says. After a moment, Steve hears the familiar voice of Dr. King.

            "Thank you," he says genuinely, poking his head out from under the sink. Cherise had taken off her sweater, revealing the blue sports bra that exposes a good deal of her bright skin. As she walks away, her curls bounce with life. Steve finds himself distracted for a moment, before the cat on the counter jumps back down to check him out. He disappears back under the sink to work, the faint sound of a shower running somewhere upstairs meeting his ears. He finds that in fifteen minutes' time, he is able to fix the pipe problem and install the new sink hose that Cherise had purchased. He tests the water to find that it flows out of the faucet satisfactorily. He glances at Cherise's laptop to see that the speech is just about over. The video is playing on YouTube, a site he has visited a few times, and Steve leans against the counter to watch the black and white motion of Martin Luther King Jr. on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.

            Steve grins, listening to the crowd's constant applause and the rhythm of Dr. King's speech. He wishes that he could have seen all of this in colour, to have been there with all of the people, all of the power. He goes to restart the video when Cherise walks back into the kitchen.

            "Can't get enough?" she asks comically, starting for the cabinet. He turns to find her in a formfitting black tank top and matching gray sweatpants. Even in such casual clothing, she looks beautiful. Her skin reminds him of a cup of coffee with the cream mixed into it. Her curls appear to have died a little, as the hair is still damp from the shower.

            "Well, it was my first time hearing it at lunch earlier," he explains, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter. Cherise smiles, pulling two glasses from the cabinet.

            "What'll it be, Captain?" she asks, walking past him to pull two different bottles of wine off the counter. He eyes them.

            "Either will be fine, thank you."

Cherise pours Steve a glass and then one for herself.

            "You know, I was just about to make dinner. If you want, you can stay and listen again, have a hot home cooked meal," she says, nodding towards her laptop where he had started the speech from the beginning again.

            "Oh, I don't want to be in your way," he admits.

            "You sure? I was making tacos," she explains. The name sounds familiar. Steve pulls the list from his back pocket. Tacos have yet to be crossed off. Cherise laughs.

            "You really carry that everywhere?" she asks. He feels his cheeks flush red, a sense of embarrassment washing over him. Cherise thinks that this is cute.

            "Well, there's a lot I missed and—"

            "I'm just playing with you," she says. He looks at her and smiles shyly.

            "If you really don't mind," he starts, "I thought you were tired of hearing this," he says, gazing at Cherise's laptop. She laughs.

            "Eh, sometimes. It _is_ a good speech, though—don't get me wrong. I've just heard it enough to be able to recite it by heart," she says, going into the refrigerator. She begins pulling out the ingredients, pausing to look back at Steve.

            "Go ahead, move it to the table. Have a seat. Make yourself comfortable."

The Captain picks up the computer and goes to sit down.

            "You said you were a mulatto," Steve says, gazing over where Cherise begins to pull pans out of a cabinet. She grins and looks over at him, nodding.

            "My mom's black and my dad is white. They made sure I knew a thing or two about my history growing up—both sides of it, actually." Cherise moves to the sink to wash her hands, gasping. For a moment, the Captain is put off. He knows that he had installed everything correctly. Cherise smiles.

            "You fixed it," she chimes.

            "You sound surprised."

            "I didn't doubt you," she giggles.

            "Must have been interesting to grow up being mixed," he says, forgetting that she hadn't been around in the forties.

            "Hmmm, not really. I mean, where I grew up, everyone was kind of left-winged, so race was never a controversial thing, really. I guess I was lucky. I mean, you should know," she says interestedly. She continues before he can speak, "I mean, I guess it's interesting 'cause interracial marriage used to be illegal. It wasn't ruled unconstitutional until sixty-seven," she states. Steve shakes his head with disappointment.

            "Some of the things that were laws are unbelievable to me, even back then," Steve adds. Cherise nods.

            "I know! Who cares about people getting married? It's…ridiculous. But my parents met in the seventies, so they probably didn't have it as bad," she says. Steve grins. Shortly, the kitchen is filled with the aroma of spices and vegetables, the meat that Cherise fries. He knows without tasting anything that he will like it. By the time she's done cooking, the speech had come to another stop. Steve turns off the laptop and slides it to the center of the table. Cherise brings him a plate before putting the vegetables and taco shells on the table. She goes into the refrigerator for something green.

            "This is guacamole. I don't know whether you've ever had it, but I know you'll love it," Cherise beams, spooning the green stuff into a bowl and bringing it to the table.

            "Wow. Smells good," he says, overwhelmed by all of the ingredients to choose from. Cherise sits at the table and he waits to watch her put hers together before copying. He doesn't hesitate to take a bite, flavors exploding on his tongue.

            "Wow," he says after the first bite. Cherise laughs, leaning back in her chair. Apparently, she finds his reaction very amusing. He grins shyly.

            "Good, right? Oh—let me get you some water."

Her hair bounces as she makes it up from the table again, filling two tall glasses with filtered water and bringing them to the table.

            "Thank you," he says, meaning it, "You've been really hospitable."

Cherise wants to laugh again. He's still somewhat antiquated in the way that he talks, but she can't help finding him attractive, even as he eats, his muscly arms a sight to behold as he reaches for the guacamole again.

            "How long have you been working at S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Steve asks when they find themselves halfway finished with their second servings.

            "About three months. I had to take some time off right around the time that you started. I broke my leg and foot on a mission."

Steve winces at the thought.

            "Yeah, I know. It was so fun," Cherise says sarcastically. She makes him laugh again, "But, yeah, so that's why I've been trying to run a lot these days. I didn't realize how much I was going to miss being able to walk."

            "Maybe we should race sometime," he suggests.

            "You're kidding, right? Sam told me all about your running. I wouldn't stand a chance."

            "I could slow down," he jokes. She laughs. She pours him some more wine, and as they drink and talk, he starts to feel like staying longer. Cherise tells him more about the country's history, it's struggle for racial equality, things he has missed out on. She captivates him in a way that he hasn't felt in a long time. When she suggests showing him a history special she had recorded on her DVR earlier that week, the Captain finds himself unable to refuse. They migrate to the den, where Cherise urges the Captain to make himself comfortable on the couch. She kneels in front of the television with the remote control, and he watches the shirt she's wearing slide up to reveal the small of her back, that caramel tone flashing under the lamp light. He wonders childishly whether she would taste the same way if he were to kiss her. Steve's palms sweat at the thought. Cherise starts the program from the beginning.

            "I thought it was really good. And actually a professor I had for a history class in undergrad spoke a little at one point," Cherise adds.

            "Really? That's neat."

Cherise nods. She sits beside the Captain, much closer than he had expected her to get. She pulls her feet out of her flip flops and up onto the couch, her knee nudging him. She appears not to have noticed as she stares at the screen. It's quiet for five minutes before he can't help turning to look at her again. Cherise seems more captivated by the program and doesn't notice him looking. She yawns and flips her hair to one side, all of the curls tumbling over her shoulder and leaving a faintly floral scent on the air, which catches in his nostrils pleasantly.

            "This was my professor," she says, turning to look at him and realizing that he'd already been looking at her, "Her name was…Krauth…uh, something German, I think. I can't remember," she says, grinning. Steve turns to the screen to see a woman with curls, sort of similar to Cherise's. She looks to be mixed as well.

            "Anyway, she's written books, and I haven't had the chance to read them. Maybe you might be interested."

When Steve turns back to Cherise, he finds her looking at him. He nods with a sideways grin, and the two just sit there staring at each other, until Cherise's face seems to get a little bit closer. Steve realizes shortly that this is because _he's_ moving closer to her. She only smiles toothlessly, her lips full and inviting. She doesn’t move an inch when the tip of his nose makes contact with hers. He pauses there and she waits, closing her big brown eyes.

            "May I kiss you?" he asks, feeling nervous again. Cherise opens her eyes and giggles. He shies away, pulling back slightly. Cherise's hand lands on the Captain's knee, causing his heart to jump.

            "You're such a gentleman," she remarks, tilting her head to the side. He worries that perhaps she hadn’t want this, and thinks of an excuse to leave, but Cherise leans against him and presses her lips to his before he can speak. A firey sensation floods his veins. Cherise's lips navigate Steve's with ease, until he finds himself leaning back against the couch, her hands on his shoulders, until he feels a small weight in his lap where she gravitates. Her thighs are warm where she straddles him, and he can't help but moan quietly into her mouth. Steve pulls his arms around the woman, her mouth having opened obediently. He can taste the wine where her tongue brushes his. The program on the TV becomes background noise as the Captain kisses her.

            They find themselves unable to stop, and Steve begins to harden beneath her hips. He feels nervous again, wanting to pull back, but Cherise doesn't seem to mind. Her hand is rubbing his chest, and he doesn't want it to stop. She pauses to pull off her shirt. This happens so quickly that Steve doesn't have a chance to make up an excuse to get out from under her. He's only getting more excited, but it doesn't seem to bother Cherise. He looks down at two perfect beasts. They're the same colour as every other part of her, and they stare back at him in a way that makes it difficult for Steve to look away. He watches Cherise's shirt tumble to the floor. He hadn’t realized that she wasn't wearing a bra. He finds himself wanting to touch her. He grips her waist carefully, pausing to look into her eyes. He's never touched a woman this way before, but his body is telling him to continue. He slowly moves a hand to Cherise's chest as she begins to kiss him again.

            In a matter of seconds, his shirt comes off and he finds Cherise tugging on his belt. He pushes his hands through her hair. He had wanted to touch it from the moment that she walked into the kitchen with it bouncing past her shoulders. He moans into her mouth again, part of him wanting her to go slower, and part of him desperate to feel her from the inside. He stands up, breaking the kiss. Cherise eyes him with uncertainty, like a doe below him, until he begins untying her sweatpants. She continues to unzip the fly of his jeans, until they're both standing naked in the den. The lamp light creates beautiful shadows about Cherise's features. Steve passes his hands down her caramel hips, which widen in a way that gives her an hourglass shape, admiring the contrast between them. He looks down at her shyly, a draft ticking him where he's exposed below the waist.

            "Wow," he says, unable to stop himself. Cherise looks like she wants to laugh again. She thinks it's as if he's experiencing even _this_ for the first time. Little does she know, this is the case. Steve kneels on the Persian rug slowly, keeping his eyes on Cherise's, his hands never leaving her hips. He inches closer to kiss her navel. She pushes her fingers through his hair. A sense of curiosity gets the better of him and he opens his mouth to kiss messily on her skin. She smells like something sweet, but doesn't taste like much. He had been curious to know whether she would taste like anything at all. He kisses her stomach and hip bones, pleasurable sighs escaping her lips.

            She can't take it anymore and dives to the floor to meet the Captain, catching him off guard as she straddles him. His mouth simply falls agape when he feels a sudden slipping sensation and realizes that he's inside of her. It's warm and wet, and tight, which causes a moan to escape his lips. She had jumped on him so hastily that he had barely felt her grip him. He shivers a moment beneath her hands in sheer pleasure. It's not as if Steve hasn't jerked off before, but it doesn't compare to the way that she wraps around him, like a searing chokehold. He had merely wanted to kiss her, but this is _far_ more satisfying. Cherise hadn't stopped moving on top of him, and the Captain clutches around her back to keep her from dropping. She's swaying her hips against him, and he simply watches in awe as her mouth hangs open and she gasps before sighing. What she's doing feels good, and he finds himself moaning before giving a sharp thrust between her hips.

            Cherise's eyes pop open and she clutches the back of the Captain's neck, lips trembling. He lowers his head to kiss her again, enjoying the taste of her, hastily rubbing his tongue against hers. He realizes quickly how much he enjoys sex, loving the strange noises and gasps that start to come out of Cherise's mouth when he thrusts harder. He feels her get wetter, which only makes it easier for him to work. He pauses to turn so that Cherise's back is resting on the couch, so he doesn't have to hold her up (not that she's at all too heavy for him). Steve circles his arms under the backs of her knees and starts at a faster, harder rate, watching Cherise dig her nails into his pecks. She gazes up at him with a look that he isn't sure how to read. She hasn’t stopped moaning, but he slows down significantly. Cherise shakes her head, lifting it up off the couch, pulling him closer to her. So he starts up again with the same roughness, knowing that she doesn't want him to stop. He hadn’t been sure that it felt as good to her as it does to him.

            Cherise gets louder, clutching Steve's arms. A bead of sweat travels down his chest. Cherise's body begins to quiver in his grasp, until she shakes, and he feels her squeeze around his member even tighter. His mouth falls open and a guttural moan escapes. He hadn’t thought it was possible for her to get even tighter. It brings him to an end, and he finds himself unable to pull out when he comes. All he feels is good, releasing one of Cherise's legs to cup her breast. The nipples had erected when he sighed over her flesh. He grips the leg again and watches as Cherise pulls her hands through that curly hair, her eyes closing, and a smile forming on her face. Steve catches his breath, admiring her. He starts to grin. It was fun, and despite sweat having formed on her brow, he finds Cherise no less beautiful. He bows his head to start kissing her clavicle. He had begun to settle inside her, feeling the mess they made begin to drip on his pelvis.

            When finally, they can both breathe again, Cherise begins to sit up, wrapping her arms around his neck. The Captain sits back on his heels, clutching her. Her body is perfect, and he finds himself not wanting to feel it slip away. She brushes her lips against his playfully. Cherise's doe like eyes bat their long lashes repeatedly. Steve is at a loss for words. She adjusts her hips, causing him to slip from her depth, and the cold hits him uninvitingly. He wants back in, pulling Cherise's hips so that their skin stays in contact.

            "Mmm," she sighs, cupping his chin and admiring his face. He likes this satisfied noise that she makes.

            "Was it good?" he asks hopefully, almost fearing her response. Cherise's eyes widen slowly.

            "Oh my god, Steve," she says, "Was that your first time?" When his cheeks flush up, she smiles widely. To think that he'd come over just to fix her sink, only to end up naked on her floor.

            "Well, I also had my first taco today," he admits.

            "And this is your first MLK weekend," she grins, passing her hands down his chest. He sits there admiring her just the same. They can't stop smiling at each other.

            "Yeah, I guess it is."


End file.
